


Just too cute

by Sindefara



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Turgon is an artist, Turgon's room, Vanyarin cheese, nice grandfather(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sindefara/pseuds/Sindefara
Summary: Let's find out why Fingon is so good-looking ^.^





	Just too cute

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rhyllynne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhyllynne/gifts).



> I wrote this after a discussion about one of Filat's watercolours (this one https://filat.deviantart.com/art/The-bliss-of-Valinor-727976674) - someone said that Anairë is too strong and masculine. That's unusual, because typically people say that Fingon is too feminine)  
> So I've tryed to find out why Fingon is so handsome and elegant while both his parents are big and strong)  
> The Russian original is here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/6455225

Turgon heard a tap on his window and turned angrily.  
“Hello, Turucáno!” - he heard a cheerful voice.  
"Good afternoon," answered Turgon coldly.  
The shutters flung open and Glorfindel, smiling happily, with a glowing face and glowing golden hair, appeared in the window. A strip of light from the window flooded the floor, a part of the wall - and the work of Turgon. Turgon, annoyed, covered the wooden board with his hand - he deliberately closed the shutters and set the lamps so that the lighting may not change while he was painting.  
“Will you be present today in a poetic tournament in the house of Ellemirë?” - Glorfindel asked and sat down on the windowsill, although no one invited him. – “I came to you because we do not have a harper, and your mother said you could”...  
"No," snapped Turgon, "we are very busy."  
“What a pity! You and your brothers are nearly invisible - Prince Nolofinwë seems to think that most society meetings are not fit for a person of your standing. What are you doing?”  
Glorfindel looked at Turgon's work, bending over, closing one eye.  
"A connoisseur, my ass", thought Turgon angrily.  
"What an elegant job! Only in the halls where the Valar feast, I saw gold foil applied so cleverly on a painting. You have been working so long - you must be very hungry, since you ate four raw eggs!”  
"It's for the paint," Turgon explained patiently. “Eggs are a binding agent for tempera paints”.  
“Who is that on the picture?”  
"This is my older brother," Turgon replied in such an icy tone that if there were cream in addition to the eggs on the table, a lot of ice cream could be prepared in the room.  
"How nice!" Glorfindel leaned in again, and a strand of his hair stuck to the picture; he smoothed it out with an even more radiant smile, smearing the pattern on the sleeve of the one who was portrayed in the portrait. – “Turucáno, please, don’t take offense, but, in my opinion, this is a girl. If we consider the arrangement of the bodies of the children of Ilúvatar”...  
"I’ve studied anatomy," Turgon replied, "but the fact is that HE LOOKS LIKE THAT”.  
"I'm sorry." Fingon peeped out from behind his portrait. "Turyo’s paintings are always so very lifelike. Is just how I look…”  
Glorfindel laughed aloud.  
“Oh really! Sorry, I, of course, only saw you from a distance, so I did not quite recognize you. It’s indeed very much lifelike. For whom are you drawing this?  
"For Uncle Fëanor," Turgon said. "We do not see much of his family, and he does not visit us. Recently he met my father in our grandfather's house, - they had a talk, and Uncle Fëanor asked my father to send him our portraits”.  
"Yes indeed," said Glorfindel gravely. "Look, Turucáno, there's something to be done about this. Perhaps, you could at least make the eyelashes shorter? Or the nose bigger? Or the chin wider? And his eyelashes…”  
Turgon looked at Glorfindel as he would look at the talking goat, which suddenly started a conversation about various types of cabbage and the ways of cooking and eating it.  
"There's no need for that," he finally answered.  
"Of course, I can cut my eyelashes with tweezers," Fingon sighed, "but my nose ..."  
"It's about the _painting_ ," Turgon said in such a tone that any other Elf, not as dense as Glorfindel, wished the ground would swallow him up.  
"However, you could at least remove the braids. They somehow quite”... - Glorfindel snapped his fingers.  
"But long hair is beautiful," Fingon said even more inaudibly. "And Grandpa's name is Finwë, because he has beautiful hair... at least, that what he himself says..."  
"In your case, this is too much," Glorfindel shook his head. "Your uncle ..."  
"I do not really understand," interrupted Turgon, "why I should not paint what I see - why my brother should change something in his appearance because of a painting – and why it’s important what my uncle would see in the picture. Sorry, but unfortunately, we can not help you today - I need to work, and my brother has to pose”.  
"Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to interfere" Glorfindel turned to the window.  
"It would be better if you leave through the door," Turgon asked. – “I hope that there is something still left of my Avatar vines...”  
“Of course! - Glorfindel exclaimed, and, going out, he added: “In my opinion, one has to do something about his blush too – his cheeks are a way too rosy. You can, for example, wash your face with lemon juice…”  
"Thank you," Fingon said politely, blushing even more.  
"You can eat this paint," Turgon added with an indescribable irony. "You'll turn pale very quickly, and you'll have a long and persistent heartburn. And at least for a few months you will cease to be so offensively good-looking”.  
"You're always make fun of me", Fingon sighed as they were alone. “Maybe I’d better go hunting? I may get scars on my face from the tree branches or fall from a horse”...  
Turgon leaned down (they were both sitting, but Turgon was still two heads taller) and kissed his brother’s forehead.  
"You are you," he said. "I wonder where Glorfindel picked up all those stupid standards! Why should your face, clothes, manners be consistent with what is under your belt? I like to make glass, and weave lace, you love to shoot your bow, and”...  
"Yes," sighed Fingon. – «Our dad, though he’s a man, hates cooking... I understand, but still I cannot help thinking - what will Uncle Fëanor say? I would not wish to see our dad listening to his insults again, - this time about what I look like…”

*** 

Glorfindel continued to wonder whom Fingon took after and who else among his relatives was so nice-looking. Of course, the prince had a certain resemblance to Fingolfin, but from his mother, Anairë – a woman as tall as Fingolfin himself, stately and broad-shouldered - there was not much in Fingon. Fingolfin was rather secretive and uncommunicative, and Glorfindel did not know his House well. Glorfindel's mother, like Fingolfin’s mother of Indis, belonged to the royal house of Ingwë, but Fingolfin all but rarely meet his Vanyar relatives: Glorfindel believed that Fingolfin was trying (absolutely in vain!) to win the favor of his older brother who hated his Vanyarin stepmother.  
That same evening, via Ellemirë, Glorfindel arranged his visit to Indis and her older daughter Findis: there was a certain similarity between Turgon and Findis, but Fingon had nothing in common with both women.  
Glorfindel's sudden visit to Fingolfin's other sister, Irimë (he brought her a jug of wine from the slopes of Taniqetil, a head of green cheese and for a long time talked about the weather) was not well understood. It resulted in an unpleasant conversation with Finwë, who became interested what Glorfindel actually wanted from his youngest daughter. Finwë hinted that the Noldor royal house could already boast a number of Vanyarin and half-Vanyarin relatives, and enough is enough; the king generally praised the Vanyarin cheese with herbs, but wondered if Glorfindel believed that men of Finwë's house are not able to milk a goat themselves (Glorfindel assured the king that he by no means meant it, but in fact he believed exactly this).  
Irimë also had nothing in common with Fingon, except for the ribbons in her tresses.  
Glorfindel finally decided that he must be acquainted with Anairë’s family closer: he visited her parents and talked with Turgon and Fingon’s grandmother. She was a friendly woman with short-cut light chestnut hair. Glorfindel decided that another present would not carry any negative consequences.  
"Dear," said Anaire's mother, "Glorfindel got us some Vanyar cheese. Can we perhaps make a cake? Do we still have time?”  
"Yes, yes, it's very fast," Anairë’s father emerged from behind the kitchen door, and Glorfindel's curiosity was finally satisfied. He peeped out as shyly as Fingon did, and he was as pretty as his grandson was. Unlike the other Elves of his age, traces of past years on his face were imperceptible - it seemed that he was still not even thirty years old. True, his hair was not as long as Fingon’s, and when Glorfindel handed him the gift, it turned out that Fingon's grandfather was even smaller than his grandson: he was a very tiny person.  
"Your grandson is very similar to you," Glorfindel said cautiously as they began to talk. – “Good-looking, like you. You know, to be honest, when I saw his portrait I did not even believe at first sight that it was a man...”  
"Yes," Anairë’s father sighed. – “I know. The royal house is so scrupulous about appearances. Nolofinwë was always terribly proud of being the tallest and strongest. I think if Nolofinwë had seen me before the engagement, he might have changed his mind. Moreover, I heard King Finwë at the wedding saying, "Let’s hope no one will take after him..."

When Glorfindel left, Anaire's mother planted on the table the second pie (which she did not bring out for the guest) and, helping herself to a large piece -  
"What an inconsiderate young man”, she said, “utterly ill-bred. I hope Turyo does not converse with him much. He must annoy our grandson terribly. Why did you tell him so much? Well, at least you did not say that Nolofinwë actually did see you before the engagement, - remember, when he meet you and you were dressed in Anairë’s cloak...”  
"Yes," Anairë’s father laughed, pouring wine to his wife. "Anairë was so surprised when Nolofinwë told her: _I'm glad to continue my acquaintance with you, but last night when I saw you from afar – when you were on the balcony – I believed you were so tiny and graceful, but in fact you are as tall as I am_ – at least, she made no sign!”


End file.
